Parameters of Affection

You analysed her question in the context of all your interactions with the doctor this evening. You considered several thousand responses before saying “You suggested dancing shoes earlier, which I had interpreted as metaphorical, but judging by your recent actions and our current location, you do intend to dance tonight. You have no expectation that I will dance, of course, due to my obvious handicap.”

Doctor Isaac continued to smile into her drink but didn’t acknowledge you. At least not verbally. You continued your well informed guess. “I believe you have brought me here in service of our goal. You wish for me to observe your search and courtship of a mate so that I may investigate the parameters of affection.”

This got a better reaction, thanks to your carefully chosen words, and she turned in her seat to look at you, the smart little orb.

“A mate?” she asked, putting more shock in her voice than she really had. “That was a leap from just having a dance.” You would have shrugged.

“Your elevated body temperature since we entered the nightclub indicates an anticipation for an upcoming interaction,” you said, viewing the heatmap of her trim body through her thin clothing to monitor the still fluctuating patterns. “As you scan for candidates in the crowd your excitement rises and wanes, although it is ever trending upwards. From comparisons to my known thresholds, you have in fact reached a state of, in the very least, mild arousal. There may be a combination of factors contributing to this, such as the consumption of an alcoholic beverage. And the illegal nature of our activities here.”

Her eyes widened, and you saw she was blushing now. You were uncertain if that was caused by the whiskey. She flicked a glance over to the bartending robot, who continued idly wiping at a clean glass in a preoccupied fashion. You were satisfied that it was not paying attention to you, and that there were no active listening devices or other persons nearby to hear the conversation. Doctor Isaac seemed to calm herself as well, probably remembering your environmental assessment functions.

===Doctor Isaac, Isabelle: 42(+1)

“Well, I do want to dance,” she said, the most that she was willing to admit right now despite the flood of heat you saw rush to her groin. “You are to observe my behaviours on the dancefloor, and those I choose to… interact with. Take note of how our dancing… affects me.” That was instruction enough, apparently, and she threw back the rest of her drink in the same motion she got out of her chair. There was an exhalation through bared teeth, partly from the burning sensation down her throat, partly from her sudden determination to get out there. She took off her glasses then, pulled off her sleeveless sweater and dropped it, half folded, next to your spot on the bar. The short green skirt of hers had actually been a short green dress with a plunging back, two thin straps holding the flimsy thing to her acceptable bust. “Elvis, look after my stuff,” she called to the bartender, who did quickly acknowledge her, made a cursory glance to your sphere to register your presence, then went back to cleaning that glass. He did eventually sidle up closer to your end of the bar as Doctor Isaac strutted her way to the dancefloor.